DIRECTION

The word “DIRECTION” means 1. A corner in which one heads. 2. Instruction(s) to reach an intended goal.

While driving on the road we follow any one of the  four (forward, reverse, left or right), while at the sea a ship follows one of the 4 (North, West, East & South) or more specifically any of N, NNE, NE, NEE, E, SEE, SE, SSE, S, SSW, SW, SWW, W, NWW, NW, NNW. When airborne the plane has two more direction added to this 16 directions namely up and down. All these direction are relevant while one is on the earth or in the earth’s atmosphere. Once you leave the earth these directions render useless for one need to substitute the sun with, may be another distant star.

In the process of marching toward the destination a car is given direction by the wheels, a ship is given direction by the rudder; a plane is given direction by the air foils plus rudder and a spacecraft by the nozzle.

Proper direction is very vital to reach the desired destination to progress and to survive.

Once on a beach, one wave after the other, brought sholes of star fishes, the fishes were destined to die but a small boy on the beach was trying to catch one and throw it back in to the sea. The waves were mightier than the hand of the boy. The waves brought the fishes in thousands and boy returned them back in one or two. There were others on the beach but he was the only person returning fishes back to the waters.

An old man walked up to him and asked what difference does it make? The fishes come in majuscule and you send them in miniscule. The boy lifted a fish and saying “It makes difference to this one” he threw it into the water. He took another one said the same thing and threw it into the water.

For the old man it was just a futile exercise but for the fish it was a matter of life and death. The boy gave a direction to the fish, a direction towards water, a direction towards life.

While on road we come across crossroad and living a life we come across ambiguity. We cannot continue to stay there for long, we have to take a decision, a direction and move on. When ambiguity pervades, haziness is all around, a remark from a friendly soul falls on our ears. “Why don’t you do this?”, “Have you ever tried this one?”, “How about doing it this way?”, “Never say no.”, “You are capable of doing that.” “You should give it a try” so on and so forth.

I call these remarks as “PASSING REMARKS”. How careful are we? How attentive are we to these remarks? They often go unheard. Is it because they sound unpleasant? Can they be turned into melodious music? Can they be transformed in to a symphony?      

There is no dearth of stories of great men who understood the importance of these passing remarks and made the most out of their lives. These remarks work equally well for those who are careful listener and consistent follower. 

One such passing remark from Neha opened up a new direction for me that I never dreamed of even in my wildest dream. It is said that "The journey of thousand miles begins with a single step" and fortunately enough, I ..... took that single step. 

See you next time with the STORY OF NEHA PATEL

LOVE WITHIN AND WITHOUT

Je t’aime (I love you) is an expression used across all existing relations in the world. Sometimes it forms the base of forming new relations. This is an expression used to express the intensity of connection between people. It is glue that binds people together.

God made air and god made love. He blended them well and left them to flow. Poets say “Love is in the air”. How true would it be? No sooner this question rises in the mind the answer too comes readily. How come we feel connected with someone, when the sky covers up with clouds which drizzle in harmony with the swaying breeze? It is love in the pollen that rides the swirls of the wind to reach its destination. The beautiful flower that I am connected to at this moment is the outcome of one such act.  

As I write this blog, the curtain on the window, flutters in tune with the breeze, each flutter impregnates the ambiance in the room with light fragrance of a flower just outside the window. The ebb and tide of fragrance, renders me restless, provokes me to have more. The empty flower vase lying in front of my eyes and provocation whispering in my ears “Go and get it, are working hand in glove”. The mind is agitated and fingers on the verge of reaching out to pluck it. My heart cries out “Do you love it? If yes, don’t do it.”

Love that reaches out is blissful and when responded, a symphony is struck. The flower is trying to reach out to me through its fragrance and was I responding to it or about to shatter it.

We fall prey to emotive forces. Emotion blinds us and drives us possessive. To us, flower in not a creation but merely an object to be used and thrown away. It seems this perception has extended to contemporary society too.

Money power, muscle power, authority, position is shattering (Rape, Gang rape, molestation, eve teasing, child abuse) the fair sex everywhere. Can police, can strict laws, can jail, can hanging solve this problem? Every time I switch on the news channel, the news reporter has at least one such news. Shattering happens unabated.

On Sept 16, 2013 when the supreme court of India announced it verdict in the Delhi rape case, hell broke loose on the four convicts. They chose to kill and walked the way to get killed.

At times I think, is the social fiber strengthening or weakening. The society has run dry of love, honor and respect for the fair sex. Can’t it be restored? Can’t awareness be created? Can’t it be revived?

I am hopeful; it can come back the way it has disappeared. We have in us immense capacity to love, honor and respect the fair sex, a unique creation of Almighty.

Love is to be, and feel the bliss that generates within and extends without. Love is to be, and feel the bliss that generates outside and extends within.

THE STORY OF INDU-2

Few weeks later I left for her village. With few books and clothes in my shoulder bag I took the state highway connecting my hometown Vadodara and Dabhoi. The highway was flanked by rows of Neem and Gulmohor trees, the trees were fairly tall arching at the top providing shade to the travelers and traffic. It was crimson all over because of the flower on the trees and flower that fell on the road. It had been half an hour of journey by bus; it was time for me to get down at a spot named Kundhela.

No sooner did I alight the bus, within moments it disappeared around the turn of the road. From here on I had to walk on foot. I crossed on to the other side of the road and entered a field. It was the onset of monsoon; the sun not in sight, the sky heavily overcastted, the earth dressed in green and its soil drenched. While walking through the fields the soil would give way and my foot would sink in by a centimeter or so. With every moment fleeting, visibility lessened and I had to pass-by one village (Kundhela) before I could reach Bahranpura, the village where she lived. Far away I could see hazy images of two palm trees which stood inside the periphery of her village. It was almost 45 minutes of walk, from leaving the state highway to reaching her doorstep. It was almost dark; she had just completed her evening prayer. A sense of happiness flashed through her and emerged on her face in the form of a smile. Manubhai appeared on the scene from inside the house and it was once again a joyous reunion.

The next day Manubhai as usual went out for work on the fields, this was the right time to see that plantation happens in the right way so that he could thereafter nurture his crop with manure and water and see that his expectation come true. While at home I would spend my time reading books those I carried along with me. In between when she used to finish her household work she would come and sit with me. Talk about family members in the city, though not much educated, she would ask me, about my career plans. Hers was not a posh house but whatever she had; she would offer it with open heart. The dishes that she made were not five-star but were presented with a sense of belongingness; I could sense the connectivity being present and live. At times when it drizzled, the coolness dropping low, me stationed in my chair, lost in reading, she would surprise me with an aroma filled cup of tea. Fine phase of life speeds up and bring us to the moments of parting. I too had to leave for the city.

   

Once in the city I got busy with my career; my job, my family, my studies kept me too busy. At times I had to move my residence from place to place. Distances have their own role to play in maintaining relations. We got isolated for years. 
   

The next time I met her after almost two decades, she was week, age had demanded its toll, she had food pipe problem. The doctor had suggested a surgery. I was abroad and could not support Manubahi but I asked my family to be there with them. My wife supported to the best of her ability but she (Indubhabhi) was destined to leave us all.

Now, during the night, when I gaze at the sky and look at the stars, I am not sure whether she is there as a star trying to connect with me but when I gaze at my inner self, I find her there on the annals of my memories.

THE STORY OF INDU-1

Recalling childhood memories, I remember that at bed time I used to gaze at the sky, once I asked my mother. Whom do these stars represent? Why are they in the sky? She replied, when good people die their souls take place in the sky as stars. I have often seen falling stars who rush speedily and disappear, as I grew up I came to know they can be meteorite who enter the earth’s atmosphere and get burned out due friction with the earth’s atmosphere. There is another kind of celestial body which moves around the sun and disappear, they visit the sky on timely basis, they are known as comets, different comets appear over varying  span time. For many a comet can be seen once in a lifetime. Halley is one such comet which appears after 74 to 76 years. Like comets in the sky people appear in life and leave behind unforgettable memories. This article is dedicated to my sister-in-law “Indu”.

I was a small child when she married my brother (Manu) and joined our family, she used to stay in the village and I used to stay in the city. Whenever we happened to visit  her my mother would be closer to her and I would be busy gaming with friends, away from home into the fields, in the evening I would at times return home with a bag of tamarind or with a bag of wood apples. 

Come dusk and all activities (in-house and in-farm) would slow down, in the village people usually prefer to have dinner at dusk. The completion of dinner would lead us to family reunion where the elders and the children would exchange talks, ideas and stories. Though the house was big enough to accommodate the whole family; cots would be drawn for few family members who preferred to sleep under the shady neem trees which stood in front of the house. This group of beds was the reunion site. Those day there were no street lights in the village; the only light available was the moonlight that depended on its waxing and waning mood. Laying in the bed as I watched the moon slowly traversing the sky; playing hide and seek through the branches of the neem tree, she (Indu) would be there sitting beside me gently stroking my back, moments later I would be in deep sleep.

My slumber would be lost by the flutter of the birds on the neem trees, the noise of the cattle and the sunlight all around. Day after night and night after day would join together to form a continuous flow of joy and merriment. This flow would come to an end when it was time for me to leave this ambiance for schooling. Few days later the school would be commencing and I would be among a different company of friends. Often I would be stuck with the thought “Why is joyous time always short? Why does a vacation pass so swiftly?”   

Back at school I would get busy with studies and someday she would surprise me by an unexpected visit. She would stay overnight and leave the other day. During the few hours she would make me laugh. I really enjoyed her company. As years passed I found, she sensed me growing up and treated me accordingly. She would be friendlier rather than being mischievous. I had cleared my preparatory science. She one day paid a surprise visit and while leaving invited me to be her guest. 

See you next time with "The story of Indu-2"